


In the Still of the Night

by celebel



Category: Cricket RPF
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe - Mob, Angst, Blood, Double Life, Fluff, Heavy Angst, I am so sorry, Late Night Conversations, Long-Distance Relationship, Love Confessions, M/M, Memories, Minor Character Death, Phone Calls & Telephones, Serious Injuries, no happy ending, very little of it imma tell you now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-05-30
Packaged: 2019-05-16 04:00:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14803946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celebel/pseuds/celebel
Summary: He should call someone.Not an ambulance, it's already too late for him, he's already lost far too much blood.  There's no point, their time will be better spent helping some other poor soul out there who can actually be saved.  Not Shaun who thinks Mitch is safe and sound at home, not on some dumb, 'top secret' mission out in the city in the middle of the night, bleeding out in some alley.  He will let Shaun rest well tonight.  There will be more than enough time for him to grieve.  He should call JL, let him know that it's 'mission accomplished' and that the Bash Brothers are no longer a threat to the Perth Scorchers' operations.  Yes, he's the best choice.Yet out of one last moment of selfishness, Mitch finds his shaking fingers punching an entirely different number into his phone.





	In the Still of the Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [idontevenknowwhatrascasseis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/idontevenknowwhatrascasseis/gifts).



> So, there was this little prompt for some Pitch in a Mafia/Mob AU
> 
> Mitch is a mobster, Pat is a pro cricketer who has no idea what his bf does for a living
> 
> Mafia life is dangerous lemme tell you that, folks *nervous laughter*
> 
> Like, I mean, I've written quite a bit of fluff before, gotta balance it out with some angst ya know, try my hand at a few things and- OOOKAY I AM MAKING EXCUSES FOR THE INEXCUSABLE HERE OH MY GOD GUYS I AM SO SORRY MY HAND JUST SLIPPED AND IDK WHAT HAPPENED

He trudges down the alleyway, clutching at the gaping wound at his stomach oozing blood, _his_ blood. It is done, the Brisbane Heat's Bash Brothers neutralised, the both of them lying dead some few metres away from him, identical bullet holes right between their eyes.

Mitch feels his legs give out from under him, sending him crashing to the ground. His gun skitters away somewhere into the darkness, but he really can't care less at this point. He hauls himself up against a wall and props himself there, grimacing as his wound shrieks in agony. 

He should call someone.

Not an ambulance, it's already too late for him, he's already lost far too much blood. There's no point, their time will be better spent helping some other poor soul out there who can actually be saved. Not Shaun who thinks Mitch is safe and sound at home, not on some dumb, 'top secret' mission out in the city in the middle of the night, bleeding out in some alley. He will let Shaun rest well tonight. There will be more than enough time for him to grieve. He should call JL, let him know that it's 'mission accomplished' and that the Bash Brothers are no longer a threat to the Perth Scorchers' operations. Yes, he's the best choice.

Yet out of one last moment of selfishness, Mitch finds his shaking fingers punching an entirely different number into his phone.

The number begins to dial and Mitch closes his eyes, leaning his head against the cool brick wall. He knows it's past midnight in Sydney, but he can't help but hope that his call is answered.

It's on the fifth ring when the line gives a click and a groggy voice filters through.

"Mitch?"

"Hey, Pat," he smiles, opening his eyes.

"You fucking idiot, it's nearly one in the morning here," Pat tries to say in an annoyed voice, but Mitch can almost hear his fond smile.

"Yeah, but you still picked up anyway," he teases him and Pat huffs. There's shuffling on the other end of the call as Pat moves himself into a more comfortable position. From their countless Facetimes and Skype calls, Mitch can imagine Pat rolling over onto his stomach, arms folded atop one of his many pillows as he holds the phone to his ear, a gentle smile on his face.

"So I did, but you forget, I can still put the phone down right now-"

"Please don't," he interjects a bit too quickly, an edge of desperation in his words. Almost as a nervous reflex, he sits up straighter a tad too fast and has to bite his lip to keep himself from gasping at the pain. "I mean... I just wanted to hear your voice."

"You're such a sap, Mitch," Pat says warmly. "Well, I'm here now. What do you want to talk about?"

"Do you remember the first time we met each other?" It's the first thing that comes to mind for some reason, but he's not sure he minds the topic because Pat laughs. It's a happy sound which makes his heart beat a little quicker. If his heart rate goes up and he bleeds out more quickly just because he's listening to Pat's beautiful laugh, fond and scratchy from the sleep Mitch has just woken him from, he can't say that's a terrible way to go.

"You're really such a softie," he says. "Of course I do. I don't think I could ever forget one of the best days of my life."

"And you call me 'soft'," Mitch grins, before quickly realising that Pat can't see it. "Can you tell me about it?"

He can feel his blood seeping into the white shirt of his suit, between his fingertips and pooling onto the ground beneath him. His head feels foggy but he forces himself to stay awake. He prays that whatever God or deity is up there will let him have just this one moment despite all the sins and crimes he's committed over his many years in the business. Just this one.

"Anything for you, Mitch," Pat murmurs.

***

The memory begins to take shape in his mind as Pat speaks.

Friday night. A busy bar in Sydney. A cricket team celebrating their first major win of the season. Mitch sitting alone in the corner, sulking despite a job well done a few hours prior because Cam and AT were nearly an hour late for the time they'd agreed to meet up to go drinking.

Despite having drunk two and a half beers in a row, the alcohol in his system wasn't quite enough to quell his annoyance growing by the minute. The fact that his phone had died and the cricketers were obnoxiously loud wasn't making things any better.

He barely lifted his head as someone slipped into the seat next to him.

"You look a bit lonely this fine evening."

Mitch took a long gulp from his bottle, before turning to face the person who had spoken. He raised an eyebrow. "And you look a bit young to be in a bar by yourself."

"I'm here with the Blues, and I'm twenty, thank you very much." The mystery man rolled his eyes but kept smiling.

"Not with an attitude like that, you're not," he muttered, taking another sip and shifting fractionally away from the guy. "What do you want?"

"Your number." Mitch nearly spat out his drink. "You asked."

"Aren't you meant to chat me up before asking for my number?"

"I don't think you quite know how this bar hookup business works, old man."

"Excuse me?" Mitch spluttered, feeling vaguely offended. "'Old man'? I'm twenty-two this year!"

"Older than me," he said with a mischievous grin. "But if you do want me to chat you up, that's something I can do."

"I don't even know your name!" he exclaimed, still slightly shocked. He tried to protest when his beer was worked from his fingers, but found he couldn't, entranced by a pair of red lips wrapping around the top of the bottle and taking a long drink, finishing whatever was left.

"My name's Pat." Pat. The name suited him. He looked like a Pat.

He knew he wasn't supposed to tell people his real name, safety measures and all that, but found he couldn't resist that look those deep blue eyes were giving him.

"Mitch." Pat beamed at him.

"Well then, Mitch, do you play cricket?"

He didn't know how long they spoke for, only that he found he enjoyed it far more than he'd expected-

_"So what do you do, Mitch?"_

_"I do odd jobs and stuff for organisations around the country." Not entirely a lie, he worked primarily for the Scorchers but could do stuff for some of the other mobs, JL permitting. Sometimes it was good to work with the other guys around the country no matter how much they hated each other._

_"So you're like a freelancer? A journalist or something?"_

_"I like writing." He hadn't answered the question, but he hoped it was enough for Pat to assume what he wanted to. Also, he loved writing, maybe he could've been a journalist or something similar in another life, a life much more different from the one he had now._

_"That's hell cool."_

-but eventually, Pat's teammates found him and told him it was time to go if he wanted a lift back home. The younger man had given him a sad, apologetic smile which made him get a small, uncomfortable twist in his chest.

As Pat made to leave, he'd caught his hand.

He'd hesitated, before meeting those blue eyes, bright despite the low light of the bar. "So, did you still want my number?"

To say the smile Pat had given him had been 'brilliant', wouldn't do it justice. He'd given Mitch his phone and he'd put his number in, too distracted to realise he'd put his private Scorchers phone number in instead of his other one meant for 'civilian use', as Jason phrased it.

He was in a good mood the next morning despite his raging hangover. He also found he couldn't stay mad Cam and AT for being 'preoccupied' the night before.

***

"Mitch, you still there, mate?" Pat's voice brings him back to the present.

"Yeah, I'm here," he grunts, shifting himself into a more upright position.

"You sound a bit off, you got a cold or something?" The words are teasing, but there's an edge of concern to them. He can't help but give a sad smile.

"I guess you could say that."

"You need to take better care of yourself when I'm not there, idiot," Pat lightly chides him. He could almost laugh.

"Do you remember our first date?" he says, swiftly changing the subject.

"Someone's in a sentimental mood tonight," Pat says, but begins recounting the event. Mitch lets his soft voice wash over him like the ocean's tide, slowly uncovering the memories like treasures buried in the sand.

***

A week and a half after Sydney. He was back in Perth.

_His phone began to ring in his pocket. One ring. Two rings. He glanced at his phone and so did Shaun from over his shoulder. He narrowed his eyes._

_"That's not a Scorchers number."_

_"I suppose it's not. Be back in a second, I have to take this call."_

_"Mitch, no. Come back here-"_

_"Bye, Shaun!"_

They were in a small café in Perth's eastern suburbs, the Sun just peeking through the early morning clouds. Mitch wrapped his hands around the cup of coffee, a small smile playing at his lips as he listened to Pat speak about his dumb teammates. 

The Blues were in town for a Shield game, and a couple of days prior, Pat had finally dropped Mitch a call, telling him he was in Perth and asking if he'd like to grab coffee some time and catch up. He still thought Mitch was a journalist, and Mitch was happy to let him believe that. It was safer for the both of them this way.

"If only you'd kept playing cricket," Pat sighed. "Could be playing you later today."

"Perhaps," Mitch laughed, taking a sip of his drink. He was surprised Pat still remembered what he'd told him that week and a half ago in the bar, that he used to play cricket when he was younger, that he had actually been half decent but had given it up to pursue his current career.

That wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the complete truth either. Pat could fill in the blanks however he wanted. 

The coaches had told him that he was pretty good, good enough to go international, but when he turned eighteen, Shaun had sat him down and told him to make a choice. He could forget they ever had that conversation and Mitch could go on to live a normal life, play cricket or whatever he wanted to do, maybe even go on to have a family and die old and accomplished. Or, he could do what Shaun and his dad had kept secret from him for years, join Australia's dangerous underground and become part of the 'Perth Scorchers', one of the six most notorious mobs in the country. It was a life where the only certainties were the high risks of physical, mental and emotional pain with little to no reward involved. As a mere child, desperate to please and live up to his family name, it had been obvious what he had picked.

Maybe in hindsight, it hadn't been the wisest decision, but by now, it was far too late to back out.

Pat set his drink down - a flat white, decaf - and fixed Mitch with a serious look, a small glimmer of hope or hesitation in it. "You're gonna come watch the game, yeah? Even for just half a day or something. You don't have to if you're too busy-"

"I'll be there, don't worry," Mitch smiled. JL would probably skin him if he discovered he'd been neglecting his duties to go watch cricket, but he didn't care. It was only the second time he'd seen Pat, but there was something about him, something drawing Mitch in and planting a certainty in his mind: That he knew he wanted to see Pat again. "I'll be there to watch the Warriors rip your bunch apart."

"In your dreams, Mitch!" Pat laughed. There was a hint of relief(?) in it. "We're going to finish a day early, just you wait."

"As if," he scoffed and rolled his eyes for lack of a better comeback.

"Mark my words," Pat said, swiping the croissant Mitch had forgotten he'd bought to go with the coffee, and taking a large bite out of it, mouth full as he continued speaking. "And after, we can go on another date like this one. Know any good dinner places around here?"

Mitch nearly spat out his coffee at that. "A... date?"

"Well, yeah. That's what this is, isn't it?" He was smiling confidently, but Mitch caught the momentary flicker of doubt across his features. "Unless you don't want it to be, of course. Could just be two mates grabbing coffee or something," he added quickly, looking away and biting his lip.

"Pat?" Mitch leaned over, sliding his hand over Pat's which was trembling slightly. Pat looked up, eyes wide, a look which made Mitch's breath catch in his throat. His eyes were ten times more blue than the waters around Rottnest and a hundred times more entrancing. Before today, he wouldn't have described himself as a shy person, but being around Pat made him feel that way, conscious of his every move so as to not embarrass himself. "I'm cool with that, with this being a date. There's a good Italian place in Vic Park if you're up for that."

Pat turned his hand in Mitch's loose hold so he could lace their fingers together. He met his gaze and smiled. It wasn't one of those smiles full of confidence and bravado he'd flashed so often before this. It was small, warm, and ever so beautiful. A smile solely for Mitch to enjoy. Without saying a word, that had been enough of an answer.

And true to his word, the Shield game was finished a day early, the Blues' bowling attack absolutely decimating the Warriors. Mitch watched it all unfold, being there for the whole three days.

He couldn't bring himself to mind too much, though. The Italian food was good.

And so were the small, shy smiles and gazes they exchanged over their pasta every time their too long legs knocked against each other's beneath the table.

_"Who the fuck is Pat?" Shaun stormed into his room, headphones around his neck. He'd been listening in on the call. Bastard._

_"Nobody."_

_"Mitch, I-"_

_"I don't know him, you don't either. He doesn't know me, this call never happened, he doesn't know anything about the Scorchers, and JL doesn't hear about this, got it?"_

_"Mitchell, it's not safe for you or for him-"_

_**"Got it?"** _

_Shaun hesitated, before pursing his lips and straightening his spine, giving Mitch a rigid nod._

_"I'm only doing this because you're my brother."_

_"Thanks, Shaun."_

***

"When are you coming over to Sydney?" Pat yawns.

"When my job permits it and when my boss stops being a douche," Mitch chuckles softly. He's touched that Pat is willing to stay up so late just talking to him. "Why don't you come over to Perth? Lazy asshole..."

"Cricket season isn't for another few months, dumbass, and I'm broke." There's that voice he uses whenever he's rolling his eyes. "Surely your boss can find something interesting for you to write about in Sydney."

"Nothing interesting happens in Sydney," Mitch teases.

"Says the man living in the middle of nowhere," Pat shoots back.

"Perth is okay."

"You guys had to create an entire campaign just to promote that statement."

"Oh, piss off," Mitch huffs and they settle into a few moments of comfortable silence, eventually broken by him. "You know I love you, yeah?"

He has to say it. He could have his whole life ahead of him instead of just the few minutes he has left and he probably still couldn't say it enough. There's never enough time.

"Of course," Pat whispers. "I love you too, Mitch. I remember the first time we said that to each other."

"Tell me about it?"

***

They'd been dating for close to a year and a half now. By some magic (read: Shaun's tireless efforts), JL still didn't suspect a thing and Mitch was still alive.

It was late, the Sun had long since set but the both of them laid awake on Pat's bed, their sweat drying on their bodies and their breathing loud in the darkness. Pat had his head on Mitch's chest, humming contently when he felt his boyfriend's arms wrap around his shoulders and a set of lips plant a kiss on the crown of his head.

"You're amazing, you know that?" Mitch mumbled into Pat's dark hair. His eyelids felt like lead and he could feel exhaustion slowly pulling him under. Before this, he'd had quite the day, negotiating an arms deal with the Sydney Thunder which had nearly gone wrong when the Melbourne Stars had gotten wind of the entire operation and had tried to pinch the weapons for themselves. 

Car chases through the busy city streets while dodging bullets and cops hadn't been the most ideal of activities on a Saturday afternoon when all he had looked forward to had been a simple negotiation taking less than an hour in the morning, followed by an entire day spent just with Pat. Oh well, at least Sam and their inside agents with the police had managed to get everything sorted before the situation had spiralled too out of hand and Pat had seen him on television or something. His secret was still safe, though Pat hadn't been too happy when Mitch had shown up two hours late for their date with the weak excuse of having been caught in traffic even though the freeway had been completely clear since eight. 

They'd fought, situation escalating far beyond its actual magnitude, the both of them hurling insults they didn't mean at each other. Mitch deserved all the yelling he got, but he couldn't exactly blurt out what he did for a living to Pat, could he? That had been one of the terms he'd agreed on with Shaun, that he keep up the charade of being a journalist for both his and Pat's sakes. There had been shouting, screaming, crying, finally ending with Pat storming off and locking Mitch out of his apartment. He'd wandered around the city for what felt like ages, irrational anger slowly simmering down into a combination of loss and regret and shame gnawing away at his conscious. He'd put away his pride for long enough to formulate a proper apology and buy a box of Lindt to accompany his words. As it turned out, Pat had also done something similar, coming up with an apology of his own and buying a family pack of Tim Tams for Mitch. What happened after that was mostly a blur of kissing, followed by wandering hands, giggly fumbles all the way to the bedroom and mind-blowingly good sex.

"You're not too bad yourself," Pat said as Mitch yawned.

"Mm, thanks, babe." He drew Pat closer to him and let his eyes close, feeling of peace and happiness settle over him. Pat snuggled closer and made a happy sound which made Mitch smile. He would've given anything and everything to stay in that one moment forever, with Pat in his arms and not a care in the world. The words were out before he'd even realised what he'd said. "I love you."

"Wait, _what?_ " Pat sat up and fixed him with a surprised look. Mitch's eyes flew open and holy shit he hadn't realised he'd said that out loud. He pushed himself up on his arms but misjudged exactly where the bed ended in his haste and went tumbling to the floor with a loud yelp. "You _love_ me?"

"No! I mean, yes! No, I just really like you a lot, which doesn't mean I don't love you but- Ah fuck, I mean-" He struggled to pull himself back up, eyes darting around the room to look at anywhere but Pat. "It's been a long day. That just slipped out and it doesn't have to mean anything. You're a great guy-"

"Mitch-"

"And I really like what we have and I don't want what my dumb self just said to ruin that-"

"For fuck's sake, Mitchell-"

"Can we please drop the subject," he groaned, burying his face into a pillow to hide his blush. It smelt nice. Like safety. Like Pat. "Just forget I said anything."

"But what if I don't want to?" Mitch went still when Pat cut his mindless rambling off. He blinked a few times into the pillow, letting the words settle in, before looking up. 

" _What?_ "

"What if I don't want to forget what you said?" Pat repeated himself calmly, lying back down on his side beside Mitch. He was smiling and there was a light dusting of colour on his own cheeks, barely noticeable in the darkness. "What if I told you that I love you as well but I didn't know when would be an appropriate time to say it? Well, obviously now would be a good time, so I'll say it loud and clear for you. I love you, Mitchell Ross Marsh."

He stared blankly back at Pat, a million possible things he could say or do racing through his mind, yet the only thing he managed was a single: "Oh."

"Really?" Pat raised an eyebrow. "That's all you got for me? Just... 'Oh'? I was expecting something like, I don't know, a hot makeout session like in the movies or- mmph!"

Mitch tackled Pat, holding his face between his hands and peppering his face with kisses. Pat shrieked with laughter and tried to push Mitch off.

"What the hell, Mitch?" he yelled in between giggles.

"I love you, I love you, I love you!" he said, punctuating each statement with a kiss. "I never would've thought-"

"You don't do that much anyway, but carry on," he laughed, reaching behind him and shoving a pillow in Mitch's face.

"Oh, fuck off." Mitch rolled his eyes, grabbing the pillow and swinging it at Pat. With his train of thought gone, he only smiled when Pat pushed himself up onto his forearms to catch his lips in yet another kiss.

"Cool, we've got that sorted," Pat grinned, lying back down and coaxing Mitch along with him. "Can we go to sleep now?"

"Whatever," he said, poking Pat in the side to make him move over. Pat pretended to be offended and batted his hand away.

"Watch it, it's my bed."

"You were on my side."

"I'll kick you off if I want to."

"But you won't because you _looooove_ me," he sang, drawing the word out. Pat rolled his eyes.

"Don't test me, Mitchell," he huffed, pulling the blanket back over the both of them. He settled on his side so the both of them were facing each other and took his hands in his own, letting out a long sigh, staring dreamily into Mitch's eyes. "I love you."

"I love you too, Pat."

***

"I really miss you, Mitch," Pat sighs. Mitch feels tears well in his eyes and a lump form in his throat.

"I'll miss you too, Pat," he chokes, a small tear running down his cheek. "I'll... I've missed hearing your voice."

"But we will see each other again, yeah?"

"Yeah. Some day." It takes everything he has in him not to fall apart right then. "We'll go to that one Chinese restaurant you like in Northbridge, then maybe walk around the city for a bit. We never did try that San Churro place in Subiaco, did we?"

"No, we didn't," Pat yawns. "It must be getting quite dark over there in Perth. Take a rest and I'll see you soon."

The Sun had set hours ago.

"Yeah, okay, Pat." It's getting dark. Shadows had already begun to pass over his eyes and his sight had blurred. Exhaustion had long taken hold of him and had already started tugging him into cold, inky black, dreamless depths. "I love you. Always have, always will."

"I know." Pat's voice gets softer, his words more slurred, though Mitch can hear the warmth in them as clear as ever, warming him from the cold promise of death. It reminds him of how the Summer sunbeams would cut through the tall shadows of the eucalyptus trees in King's Park and shine upon him and Pat as they overlook the entire city, speaking of simpler times in their lives. "I love you too. Go to sleep and I'll see you in the morning. Night, Mitch."

"Goodnight, Pat." His voice cracks as he says the last words, a broken smile on his face as he ends the call. He lets his hand with the phone fall to the side, the last of his strength pooling onto the cold, hard ground.

In his last moments, he does as Pat had told him to do. He never could deny that man.

He closes his eyes.

He falls asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Yell at me on Tumblr @somesunnyda-y (I probably deserve it)
> 
> Fic title taken from the song "In the Still of the Night" by The Five Satins which I 11/10 would recommend


End file.
